A Certain Kind of Light
by lovelycomplications
Summary: Working at a bookstore, living alone in a small apartment, and failed relationships have left Arthur feeling like his life is a bit dull. But then one day, a certain American sweeps in uninvited and changes that all too quickly. Shouldn't you have a license or something before you can just take over someone's life? UsUk AU.


**Arthur's POV**

When someone waltzes into your life, taking over and piloting it without your consent, you'll be left wondering _what the hell happened._ At least that's how it went for me, anyway. My life, up until now, was certainly nothing to be jealous of. I was just a guy living on my own with an average job and a small apartment. The closest to friends I had was the flirty French bartender at the local pub who put up with my drunken rants, and the little old lady who lived in the apartment across from mine.

I used to vent to that little old lady about failed relationships, and she would listen patiently as she sipped Darjeeling tea, her favorite. Eventually, relationships began to seem like a lost cause for me, and our conversations drifted from love to politics, or to her many stories of her youthful days for a more pleasant subject. Talking to that little old lady was usually the highlight of my week. In other words, my life was a bit boring to be honest. Then one day, that all changed rather quickly.

**...**

I gazed out the glass door of the bookstore as I leaned against the front desk. Rain pattered against the streets and sidewalks of London, and people hurried about, umbrellas in hand. It was almost eight at night, and just as I turned to get the keys to lock up the store, the bells on the door chimed as someone stepped in. "Sorry, we're about to close," I said, glancing back, and stopped.

A tall man with honey-blond hair and a face just a bit too handsome stood there. He stuffed his hands in his pockets. "You wouldn't mind if I stayed in here just for a few minutes, would ya?" he asked with a hopeful smile, and I noticed the unmistakable American accent.

"I suppose I could spare a few minutes," I said after a short pause, and went back over to the counter.

The man's face broke out into a grin. "Thanks, man!" He disappeared into one of the many narrow shelves of books, leaving me to think. Other than the accent, he seemed a bit different. He was much more cheery than the average, often grumpy person who would come in.

A few minutes later, he came up to the front with a thick book of fables and fairy tales and set it down. "It's for my niece," he stated, as if explaining why a grown man such as himself would buy a fairy tale book.

"Of course it is," I said teasingly.

"No, really," he laughed. "She wanted me to bring her back a souvenir when I go back to New York, and she really likes fantasy stories, so I thought it would be a good gift,"

I scanned the book, ringing up the total. "Ah. I could tell you weren't from around here,"

"You could tell?" he asked, and shuffled through his wallet. He obviously wasn't used to the unfamiliar currency yet. After a few moments, he handed over the total.

"Since you're not from around here, _you_ are the one with the accent, you know," I said, taking the money and handing him the receipt.

"Yeah, I guess so," he chuckled, stuffing the receipt in his front pocket carelessly. He held out his hand. "I'm Alfred Jones,"

I raised an eyebrow at him. "I'm Arthur Kirkland," I said, hesitantly shaking his hand.

"Nice to meet ya, Arthur," He smiled, and pulled his hand away.

"You're quite an open person," I said, staring at him as I leaned against the counter.

"What do you mean?"

I shrugged. "Well, most people that come in here aren't as... talkative as you, I guess,"

He must've taken that as a compliment, because his small smile he was already wearing grew even wider. "It would be pretty dull if everyone was closed off, wouldn't it?"

"Or peaceful," I pointed out.

He laughed. "Maybe, but it would get boring after awhile,"

"Something I'm all too familiar with, truthfully, so I guess you're right,"

He looked down, biting his lip. "Hey, uh," he started after a moment of silence, and looked back up. "Would you like to... maybe go out for a drink or something sometime?"

I just stared at him, blinking a few times, letting the offer register in my mind. Was I being asked out? ...On a date? Surely not. He probably meant it in a friendly manner. I could see his hopeful expression begin to falter as the seconds ticked by, and I managed to force out some kind of confirmation. It wasn't as if I had anything better to do. "I... yes, alright. There's a pub a couple doors down from here,"

His face immediately brightened again, and I was still left wondering what I agreed to. "Yeah, I know which one you're talking about. Does tomorrow evening around seven sound good?" he asked.

Tomorrow was my off day, so I nodded my head. "That's... fine,"

"Great!" he said, taking a step back, and gave me a small wave. "Well, catch you tomorrow!" After shooting me another smile, he was gone.

…

I couldn't find a comfortable position in bed that night. Either that, or it was just me not being able to keep my mind clear of Alfred. Had he meant it as a date? If he did, was I giving off a vibe? I began worrying about how to act, as well, because I knew I would probably end up acting a bit awkward. It had been quite a while since I had even come close to a relationship. But then, what if he just meant it in a friendly way? The worrying must have exhausted me, because I eventually fell asleep.

**…**

I scrambled around my apartment, frantically getting ready. I had changed three different times before finally settling on gray trousers and a white, button-down shirt with a green sweatervest. After glancing in the mirror, and scowling at myself and my messy hair I tried to tame, I left.

When I got to the pub, I saw Alfred hadn't arrived yet. I checked my watch, seeing I was two minutes early, and I sat down on one of the bar stools. Francis placed a drink in front of a young lady a few seats down, and gave her a wink before strolling over to me. "Well if it isn't my favorite stodgy Brit. Bonjour," he greeted, before studying my appearance. "You look a bit different,"

"I'm very much the same," I assured him, not wanting him to meddle in any relationship I could possibly have- romantic or not.

"Non. It looks like you actually attempted to do something with that poorly-cut mop of hair you have. You're also dressed quite nicely for a pub. Who is it?" he asked, giving me that annoying, all too knowing look.

"Put a cork in it, you damn frog," I snapped, giving another quick glance at my watch.

"Ah, you didn't deny it. So there_ is_ someone, oui?" He smirked, and before he could pester me further, Alfred walked in as if on cue.

"Hey, Arthur!" he said smiling, and sat down on a stool beside me.

"Hello, Alfred," I gave him a small smile, and glanced back over to Francis who was looking very smug.

The dirty look I gave Francis must have left him unfazed, because he leaned over a bit too close to Alfred for my liking, still wearing that cocky grin. "So you are Alfred, hm? I'm assuming you are Arthur's little date, no?"

Alfred blinked, leaned away a bit, and _was that a blush I saw?_ "Uh, yeah," he replied a bit nervously, and I almost fell out of my chair. Well _there_ was the answer.

Francis's face lit up. "Oh mon cher, you should've come right out and said this was the unfortunate man!" he said teasingly, looking over at me. "But then again, if I were you, I probably wouldn't have said anything either. With a face like that, I would fear someone would snatch him up for themself," Francis said, glancing back at Alfred. And _that_ is Francis's way of indirect flirting.

"Isn't that what you are trying to do right now?" I asked, glaring. "Just get back to your bloody job, Bonnefoy. I'll have a gin while you're at it,"

"Scotch for me, please," Alfred piped up. Francis rolled his eyes and got busy.

"Sorry about that. He is... quite a handful," I said, looking over at Alfred.

"Nah, he seems fun," Alfred laughed.

"If you consider fun to be dealing with a pain in the arse," I scoffed. "So, what brings you to London?"

"Business trip," Alfred answered, slightly twisting back and forth in the bar stool he sat in, something I thought people grew out of. "I'll be here for three more weeks,"

"Oh," I didn't really know what to say. Before I could say anything more, two drinks were placed in front of us.

"Enjoy, you two." Francis smirked and scurried off to the next attractive person he saw to ask them if they would like another drink.

"So," Alfred said with a smile, "How long have you been working at the bookstore?"

I sighed. "A couple years. I wanted to be an author, but that hasn't worked out yet,"

Alfred frowned. "But why?"

"It's much easier said than done. But it's alright, I guess. The bookstore is a suitable job. I can read almost anything I want all day, so I'm not complaining," I replied.

Alfred didn't look satisfied. "Do you have fun though?"

I shrugged. "As fun as working can be, I suppose. Like I said, I can read while on my shift,"

After awhile, we started talking about interests instead of work, and then more personal topics, such as family and the oh-so-wonderful high school years. Our conversations we had are a blur of laughs and embarrassing stories now though, thanks to Francis making sure we were never left thirsty, constantly refilling our glasses. Eventually I got drunk, and I only have a vague memory and Francis's constant teasing even now about what happened.

"Y-you don't know me," I said, pointing a wobbly finger at Alfred. "You don't know anything. Bloody yanks thinkin' they own the world. Well ya damn well don't,"

Alfred, who was much more sober, nodded in agreement. "Yep, we're just a bunch of fools running around. It's a good thing we have intelligent people like you to keep us in line," he said, amused.

"Toast to that!" I raised up my already empty glass, and clanked it to Alfred's empty glass that was on the counter. I threw my head back and tried to gulp down the non-existent beverage. "Where's it gone?! Y-you! You stole my rum!" I pointed an accusing finger at Alfred.

"Sorry, I was thirsty," he said, his chin resting in his hand as he watched me.

"I-I hate you!" I wailed, slumping down. "Th-that's why I have trust issues! P-pretty faces like y-yours are so deceiving! Goin' 'round actin' all innocent, then stealin' away someone's pride... a-and their rum!"

**…**

The next morning, I woke up with a pounding headache. I was in my bed, lying on top of the covers. I eased up, squinting my eyes as the sun peeked through the curtains. Of course, the _one day_ it doesn't rain is when I have a head-splitting hangover. After getting up to get myself a cup of tea and an aspirin, I went back to my room. There was a little post-it note on my dresser.

_Hey, your friend Francis gave me directions to your apartment._

_I found the key in your pocket. Hope ya don't mind? I didn't know what else to do._

_I had fun though, dude. ;)_

_Maybe we can meet up again sometime?_

_555-6201_

_-Alfred_

My heart fluttered. And then it dropped. This man would be leaving in three weeks, so it was most definitely _not_ a good idea to start forming any feelings for him. But that was my last thought before thinking- _dammit, I think I already have._

**I've been meaning to post a UsUk story for a while. This will probably be a 3-shot IF people like it. So please review and tell me what you think. Constructive criticism is welcome.**__**If anyone likes this, I may post other fics soon as well.**


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